Tears
by Brown-eyed Wolf
Summary: "She was crying because she could no longer pretend to be brave; she was crying for all she was scared to lose. Fred did the only thing that made sense to him; he put both his arms around her shaking form and held her to his chest, wrapping her up tightly in the embrace." The war is looming and Fred is confronted with a weeping Hermione. FW/HG. Oneshot.


**Tears**

**A/N: Hey everyone! It's been so long. My bad. BUT, he's something for all you lovely people. Little FredxHermione oneshot.  
Obligatory Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Nor will I ever. **

It was a gorgeous night, the full moon high in the sky casting its calming light over everything it touched. It was a hell of a night for some flying, and that was exactly what Fred decided to do. It had been weeks of torture; waiting for the wedding; waiting for the war. Fred had given up trying to get a good night's sleep long ago; nightmares plagued him whenever he touched his head to his pillow. Blood and ruin and screams. It was slowly driving him crazy and these nights, when he could steal off to his broom and fly for a few hours with nothing but the wind to keep him company; these nights were small glimpses of peace. He hauled on a pair of jeans that were lying on the floor; threw on top a maroon t-shirt and crept downstairs. Over the last few weeks Fred had gotten adept at this, but still, he took care to be quiet. There were extra guests in his childhood home; Harry and Hermione spending their time here, with his family, until they were called away to do whatever mission they had all been tight-lipped about. He wasn't stupid, or didn't have enough blind faith that his mother seemed to possess. He knew that Harry, Ron and Hermione were leaving, and he knew it was going to be soon, and he worried. Those three always managed to get into the worst more impossible situations wherever they went and he doubted in the face of a war that would be any different.

Still tip-toeing he pushed against the back door carefully, silently, and slipped out of the house. He was almost home-free, literally, when he nearly tripped over a hunched Hermione, sitting on the steps. "Hermione! Wha-" Speech left him as he saw her eyes, puffy and red with tear tracks lining her pale cheeks. He'd never seen someone look so distraught in all his life and it took the breath right out of him. Hermione sniffed and scrapped the back of her hand against her face, frowning. She hated being seen as the weak one when everyone was always so strong. Her gaze pointedly avoided him and he found himself slowly sinking to the steps beside her, his hands clasped together uselessly. "I…" _What could he say?_ "Hermione…" People had asked him what was wrong, had tried to cheer him up when they saw he wasn't coping well. He had heard Hermione offer comfort to everyone, all of them but had anyone ever thought to offer some to her, this poor brave girl with the world on her shoulders?

Her shoulders began to heave again, sobs ripping out of her mouth. She was crying because she could no longer pretend to be brave; she was crying for all she was scared to lose. Fred did the only thing that made sense to him; he put both his arms around her shaking form and held her to his chest, wrapping her up tightly in the embrace. She made a choked sound in the back of her throat and then she was clinging to him desperately, fists grabbing his t-shirt and tears staining it almost black. She cried like she was heartbroken and maybe it was because this war that was coming was breaking her heart. He nuzzled against her head, whispering words that were empty comfort, but it was all he could do. "'Mione. You'll be okay. We'll be okay. We'll win. It'll be fine. Shhh."

Words blurred into the next, but he kept whispering, holding her as she clutched at him, determined to stay there with her. It was maybe an hour later that her sobs were less violent, less desperate, although her tears were falling as fast as ever. She looked up at him with wide golden eyes and whispered her shameful cowardly words. "I don't want to die, Fred." Tears brimmed in his eyes but he refused to let them fall. He would be strong for this girl, as she had been for everyone else.

He tried to be reassuring, "You won't, Her-" but she didn't let him finish.

"You don't know that! No one knows who will die. It could be me, it could be you, it could be all of us." She pushed her forehead into my chest, hugging me closer and whispering what she thought was weakness. "There is so much I want to do with my life. I want to learn more. I want to graduate. I want to learn to be a healer. I want to be married. I want to have kids." Her hands squeezed Fred even tighter, her chest flush with against his and she began to sob again. "Merlin! I haven't even been kissed before!" She continued to cry as he patted her hair awkwardly, his heart aching for her. She was so young, so brilliant and so strong that she didn't even realise that there was no shame in wanting a life; in wanting to learn and grown and be loved.

He tensed for a moment, deciding, feeling her in his arms. He wanted to help her, Merlin, how he wanted to help. She was the most brilliant and beautiful person he knew, and not just beautiful in the traditional sense, though she was that as well. She was beautiful in what she did, and what she stood for and how she protected those she cared about; protected them even from her own grief. He lifted her head with one hand, gently tilting her chin up so she could look him in the eye.

Leaning down he pressed his forehead against hers softly. "You're allowed to want those things Hermione. You're allowed to want more out of life than these 16 years have given you. That's not a crime." She tried to look away, but he held her chin firm. "You're also right. I don't know what will happen; I don't know if you'll get to be a healer or graduate. I'm not a seer." She made a small face at that but continued to meet his eyes. "But," He didn't know how to put this, "If… If you'll allow." Fred swallowed thickly. "Allow me. I'd like to give you at least one experience before what is to come." She looked confused, her eyebrows furrowing. "Hermione, will you let me kiss you?" Her face shifted from shock, to confusion to anger quickly.

Pulling her face back, she glared at him, fire in her eyes again. "Fred Weasley! You can take your pity and leave! I don't need it!" She tried, vainly to disentangle herself from him, but his arms held tight even as she pushed against his chest. He knew he'd word it wrong.

She was hitting him now, hitting his chest with blows that would probably bruise tomorrow, crying again. He sucked in air, "'Mione. Ow! That's – ugh- NOT what I meant!" He pulled her tighter, smothering her fists with his chest. "I don't want to kiss you out of pity!" A frown pulled the edges of his lips down, and she stopped struggling.

"What?" Her voice was small.

He repeated, firmer. "I don't want to kiss you out of pity."

"Then…" She didn't have time to finish her quiet question, his lips had crashed down on hers in a heartbeat, smothering her cry of surprise. He tried to be gentle and tentative, giving her a proper first kiss, but he found that after a few seconds and her lips pushing against his firmly, that he simply couldn't stop himself. His tongue licked her bottom lip, teeth pulling at it a second later, pleading with her for entrance. She allowed him to invade her mouth, war with her tongue and taste her properly. There was no 'technique' to this kiss, it was raw and full of teeth and tongue and heat. Her hands flew to his hair, pulling him closer, tighter; clinging. His hands roamed, alternating between pulling her as close as he could and just touching her; hands skimmed shoulders, neck, waist, not wanting to miss any of her.

By the time they parted, the need for oxygen became too strong, they still clung, breathing heavily and staring. He tried to clear his throat. "I… I didn't want to kiss you out of pity. I wanted to kiss you because you're beautiful and strong and brilliant and you put everyone else before yourself and you strive. You strive, Hermione, to be the best you can be, to be excellent. And…" Oh, Merlin, he had Ron to contend with. "If… if Ron doesn't notice that. That whoever has your love is the luckiest man on the face of this Earth, then he is blind and a fool."

She was biting her lip. "Fred…"

He hurt admitting this to her. "No, 'Mione. I _know_, I know that you love him. I've watched it for years and I know that I was probably the last person you wanted for your first kiss. Bu-" She shut him up the only way she could think of at that moment. She pushed two very insistent lips against his and kissed him senseless. It was a few more minutes before she pulled back, breathless again and grinning. He was dumbfounded. "W-What?"

Grinning wider, she kissed him on the nose quickly. "I couldn't have asked for a better first kiss, Fred Weasley." She added as an afterthought, "Or a second."

He blinked, still dazed. "But. But I'm not Ron."

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "I'm rather glad that you're not. If you were, you'd probably be off snogging Lavender about now." There'd been a couple times in the last few weeks that Ron would come out of the Floo late at night smelling of Lavender's perfume; a garish kind of floral scent. Fred had found her crying not only because of her fear of dying but for the loss of the boy that she could never have.

Arms wrapped around her tightly, pulling her suddenly into his lap. "Oh, 'Mione. I'm so sorry. He's a bloody prick and I'm going to feed him so many Puking Pasties he'll be in the toilet for a week!" She laughed at this and it was a nice laugh, almost tinkling (despite the fact that Fred felt his masculinity slipping away at even thinking the word 'tinkling'). "I'd never do that to you!" He declared without pausing to think. "I'll buy you flowers for no reason, and take you out to wherever you want and I'd, well, I'd _try_ to cook for you," she smiled at that, "And, Merlin, I'd love you like he never had the guts to do." She started silently crying again, unable to contain the tears any longer. "Oh! Godric, I said the wrong thing, didn't I?! I… I knew I'd do this. I'm sorry, 'Mione. Forgive me fo-"

She near strangled him in a hug, tears staining his shoulder again. "Shut up, you idiot! You're perfect!"

There was a chuckle behind them and their heads whipped around to find George lounging against the door frame, grinning widely. "You guys just won me 20 galleons off Harry and 15 off Dad. Cheers. If you get married in the next five years I'll get 200 from Moody. Just something to think about." George turned without waiting for a reply and strolled off into the house whistling a happy tune, 35 galleons richer.

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**Thanks for reading!**


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